


5 Times Laurent is Broken

by greatappreciations



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: But Mostly Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-12 01:57:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7079932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greatappreciations/pseuds/greatappreciations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>+1 time Damen makes it better</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 Times Laurent is Broken

I

He is thirteen and he is too fucking young for this, too young to see his brother cut down like a blade of grass, too young to stand silent at a funeral in full mourning dress, hiding his tears because now the throne is his and although he never asked for this, he was happy being a prince, happy with his brother, now the weight of responsibility is crushing him and it is a constant storm thundering above his head but when he looks up the raindrops are his brother’s blood.

 

He bows his head. The storm became a crown.

 

II

He had not thought his uncle could stoop any lower but then he is faced with Damianos of Akielos as a bed slave and once again, he is proved wrong. Restraint is not in his nature but he bites down the rage, the instinct inside him which looks at this man so entirely in his power and sees revenge. He hears the whispers throughout the palace and he can hear his uncle’s voice in every word so he takes no action. He will not dignify the rumours; that would only gladden his uncle further, so he blocks it out. His walls are made of a harder stone than any castle and he has become colder than the grave. It is his only remaining defence and it is this armour which has kept him alive.

 

He dismisses the slave but it is hard to tell who is really in chains

 

III

Sometimes he does not hate Damen. Sometimes he despises him, and his stupid curly hair and his bright hopeful eyes and that idiot resilience which will one day get him killed and most of all, he hates that he cares, he hates how those carefully constructed walls crumble at his feet every time Damen smiles and he starts to wish away the years to a time when they could have been something, which, he reminds himself, is not right now. In another time, another life, then perhaps, but currently it is definitely not allowed and he definitely needs to stop looking at his (lovely) arms.

 

And honestly, his lips should be made illegal.

 

IV

The pain is like a slap in the face because, well, it is a slap in the face. To be fair to himself, Laurent thinks, this brute of a man is about twice his size, so it’s not his fault he stumbles backwards. And the ring gleaming wickedly on the barbarian’s clenched fist explains the blood dripping down his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Damen’s desperate outrage and his first thought is, aw, sweet. His second thought drags him sharply back to reality and as Damen is dragged away half-conscious, he cannot help but pray that he returns safely.

 

He cannot lose Damen as well. He has lost enough already.

 

V

And yet he knows that he will leave. He was always going to leave. Nothing has changed between them, he tells himself, trying to conjure up the hatred he once felt but feeling it melt away when Damen enters his chambers, beautiful and uncertain. If he were to say no, they would stop, of course, but the quickening of Damen’s pulse and lingering gaze make it clear that the feeling is gloriously mutual. Damen is made of warmth, kissing down his neck as though tracing the freckles, touching every inch of skin, taking control but respecting limits, and Laurent is weak for him. He would do anything for this, he realises, anything to hold on to this warmth for even just one more night. With Damen he is a better person. He feels alive.

 

This is why, of course, it hurts so much to see him go.

 

 

 

+I

 

Their first night of peace. It is midnight when he wakes, except it is not midnight, it is a battlefield and he is a young boy again and his childhood is stripped away from him by a war and his uncle who is grinning like a viper encircling its prey and he is silenced and he cannot breathe and his chest gasps for a salvation that never came and it hurts so much he cannot bear it and he cannot breathe and he cannot-

 

‘Laurent?’ says a familiar sleepy voice which shocks him back into the present. ‘Are you awake?’

 

He says nothing, still catching his breath, his little lungs struggling to keep up. He is sat up in bed, knees clasped to his chest like a child, and it takes a moment for him to bring himself back to the present, by which time Damen has sat up too, soft moonlight illuminating his face. ‘Clearly,’ he mutters eventually, but his heart isn’t in the bitchiness.

 

‘Nightmare?’ asks Damen simply, pulling him in tight until it is hard to say where one body stops and the other begins. He nodded, shivering slightly, and Damen brought the blanket closer around them, creating a little fort of warmth and safety. ‘I’t’s okay now,’ he whispered. ‘You’re okay now.’

 

Laurent allows himself to crumple onto Damen’s shoulder, and Damen allows him to cry it out, the tears and exhaustion and pain of a lifetime finally surfaced. ‘I’m sorry,’ Laurent says. ‘I’m just,’ he struggles to find the right word but he doesn’t need to. Damen knows exactly what he means.

 

‘I’m yours, and you’re mine. And I swear, I’m never letting go.’ He says simply. He never was one for many words but it doesn’t matter; it is the right thing to say. Damen always knows the right thing to say. It seems like a lifetime ago that they were enemies, and now there is nothing but affection and an overwhelming sense of finally having a home between these bedsheets and in each others’ arms.

 

‘I love you,’ the words spill out before he can stop himself, and then he remembers that he never needs stop himself. With Damen, he does not need to hide anything, so he repeats it: ‘I love you,’ with bated breath.

 

‘I know,’ Damen giggles and Laurent elbows him.

 

‘You asshole.’

 

‘I love you, my prince,’ he yields. He has always yielded to Laurent. Perhaps they are each others’ weaknesses but here in his arms, this does not feel like a bad thing, and perhaps they are broken but now at least, they are broken together.

**Author's Note:**

> for a friend because, and i quote, 'i'm a hoe for h/c'  
> largely unedited  
> sorry for all the commas  
> thank u for making me read these books ilu happy bday !!


End file.
